The Making of Me
Why am I this? Why am I me?
I did not ask, I did not see
I wish I were the master of me
But this will never be
The path I walked eroded under my feet
Chipped away by the ghouls of my passed
Ever onward searching for something left behind
No hope of retrieving what has been lost
The key that will open the truth box
It was not my hand that erased my past
Another’s self-interest did that
Anchorless am I, cut adrift, no cargo of childhood dreams
A ghost ship of childhood screams.
You damaged the real me and covered your tracks
Like ink on blotting paper obliterated the facts
What did you take? What can’t I see?
Why do I now feel so much pain with in me?
Did you observe as I grew I was incomplete?
Did you know I would eventually crumble?
Did you not worry that I would stumble and fall?
I have to question, did you really ever care at all?
Was it for me to connect?
I did not know that’s what you expect
You taught me to be cool and removed
Emotions against you, useless tools
Your emotions untrustworthy
Narcissistic and cruel
So when I fail in my quest
When I lose all self-respect
What will you say, what will you do?
What will you honestly feel?
Will you recognize you are the making of me?
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